APRIL 5, 1999:AUGUST STRINDBERG, one of the pillars of modern drama,
was pretty much wacko throughout his career. Not that certifiable
insanity is necessarily a drawback for an artist, but Strindberg
also had a remorseless view of women as evil, unlike his contemporary
Henrik Ibsen. Ibsen's pro-feminist views in plays such as A
Doll's House, Ghosts and Hedda Gabler make those
works, by modern values, more palatable. Strindberg on the other
hand, while still praised for his groundbreaking realism, is rarely
performed. Despite a worldwide revival in 1949 around the centennial
of his birth, of his 58 plays only Miss Julie, and to a
much lesser degree The Father, are likely to make it to
the boards.

Quintessential Productions' current version of The Father
seeks to rehabilitate the 19th-century curmudgeon's image by watering
down his misogynism. This kinder, gentler Strindberg is easier
to watch, but ultimately inaccurate. The production is redeemed,
however, by director Brian Kearney's over-the-top performance
in the title role.

This original adaptation by QP Artistic Director Laura Ann Herman,
who also plays wife Laura, was based on Swedish and French texts
(Strindberg did his own French translations). Herman learned to
translate Swedish while working on a long-delayed version of Miss
Julie (three years in the making and originally scheduled
for this past January, it's now slated for October of next season).

"We were looking to do a standing adaptation, but a lot
of them are very archaic," Herman explained. "The
Father hasn't been done in recent translation the way that
Miss Julie has. So what we were looking at was from the turn
of the century, which played very well then, but doesn't now because
of the language."

Kearney, who knew little about Strindberg going into the production,
was fascinated by what he found in his research.

"Essentially, the man was insane," Kearney says. "He
was into alchemy, bizarre scientific experiments (Strindberg's
attempts to prove that sulfur was not a true element constituted
a particularly odious period for his neighbors). He despised Ibsen.
Ibsen's strong female characters were victorious because they
were in the right. Strindberg had Oedipal issues with his mother
and all of his wives (he married three times to increasingly younger
women). His intention was for Laura to be very simple, instinctual,
animal-like and evil. We tried to tone that down to make her more
of a real person, and have her motives stem from a realistic,
more believable standpoint."

Alas, in leavening Laura, female evil incarnate who drives her
husband insane with tortuous doubts about the paternity of their
daughter, Bertha (played winsomely by Catalina Foothills freshman
Amelia Hileman), the central theme is clouded rather than clarified.

Old August wanted to make the point that a woman by her very
nature could drive an otherwise good man (like, say, himself)
utterly insane. Here, with Herman playing the foil as a doe-eyed
innocent, the husband essentially drives himself over the brink.
While this is truer to the facts of Strindberg's circumstances--he
wrote the play as a catharsis for his own utterly unsubstantiated
suspicions--it overly contemporizes the drama and message. Normally
played as a strong, ruthless bitch, Laura here is confused, timidly
helpful and no cause for her husband's descent into madness.

But it is Kearney's crescendo as The Captain, a strong leader
of men who is helplessly surrounded by a domestic household of
women, that grabs attention. Somewhat awkward initially in an
ill-fitting military coat and boots, Kearney works with a controlled
fury to the end of the second act. By the middle of the third
act, as he is eased into a strait-jacket by his trusted childhood
governess (competently played by Marian Wald), Kearney is wide-eyed
and frothing. At the end of the play, with the Captain comatose
in his self-induced derangement, we wonder if there might be a
real doctor in the house, just in case. The portrayal is a finely
nuanced physical tour de force that leaves the actor soaked in
sweat and exhausted, as he holds nothing back.

Making a minor appearance is local musician Al Perry, as Corporal
Nojd. The guitarist became interested in Strindberg while visiting
fellow musicians in Sweden last year. "I kept seeing his
name and when I came back I started reading his work," Perry
says. "I really liked it. He was twisted and tormented and
there's all this battle between the sexes. I guess I related."

Perry, in his first theatrical role (work as a movie extra notwithstanding),
is adequate as the roguish soldier who has possibly impregnated
the kitchen help. The situation allows Strindberg to insert an
early discussion of biology and responsibility as a prelude to
the later action.

Other roles include Jon Campbell as the village pastor, who is
also Laura's brother; and Scott Seitzberg as the town's new doctor.
All are overshadowed by Kearney's performance.

Kearney should not be accused of grandstanding, however. The
extravagance is required and is in no way a director's self-promotion.
Neither he nor Herman initially planned to be in the production,
but as often happens in community theatre, were reluctantly drafted
after prospective leads fell through.

It's valuable to be able to compare Strindberg to Ibsen, the
two founders of realism in theatre. It's unfortunate that the
tastes of our time require us to sample Strindberg-lite, rather
than face head-on the unabashedly bitter brew the playwright originally
concocted.